Kilin abandoned his seat as Jaella approached the table. “I’m off to prepare.”

Kilin had received his own orders to the north that morning, and the coming departure had been the focus of their talk over lunch. But where Allen was assigned to lead a scout patrol, Kilin had been placed as the second-in-command of the 9^th Legion’s fourth infantry cohort, beneath Senior Captain Selar. The two had joked over lunch about who would have a chance to win more glory in battle, but it was a draw between the prestige of a cavalry position and independence of a scout leader and the hand-to-hand glory of leading a full cohort into the melee.

As Kilin disappeared, Jaella joined Allen at the table. “Where’s he off to?” she asked as she sat down with her tray.

“Preparations for his orders to the north,” Allen told her, as he filled her in on the details. “We both received orders this morning to join the 9^th. We have two weeks leave and then we’re gone.”

For the next few minutes he answered her questions. As it turned out, Jaella had not yet received orders of her own, and she was eager for information that might give her a hint about when she would.

“So you’re only in the capital for the rest of this week?” she asked.

“Until Yoneth, at least,” he said. “After that, I need to take the horses out for a long ride.” Looking at Jaella, he was reminded of how striking she had been in the evening dress at her family’s home, and his mind wandered toward the dance on Kaisa.

His thoughts turned to a more amorous course, and he wondered how she would answer if he asked her to the dance with him. Perhaps she had other plans? He wasn’t going to find out if he didn’t ask her.

He decided to just go for it, and turned the topic of the conversation away from warfare. “Before I leave, there was something I wanted to do.”

Her green eyes settled on his grey, seeking to guess his motivation. “What’s that?”

He held her gaze as he reached across the table to offer her his hand. “I would like to take you to the dance on Kaisa’s Day,” he said. “I don’t want to leave the capital without seeing you one last time out of these uniforms.”

Jaella smiled, as if she had been waiting for just that invitation. She placed her hand in his. “I would love to go to the dance with you.”

There was a distant cheering somewhere in his mind, but he focused on the girl at hand.

He closed his hand around hers and looked up from beneath his eyebrows as his lips brushed the back of her fingers.

“Then I am honored,” he said. “I very much look forward to spending an evening with you.”

He released her hand and stood. Casual conversation with a friend over lunch was one thing, but a date needed to have a certain mystery about it. It was time for him to go. “You’ll have to forgive me now; it’s time that I was going.”

She tilted her head back to look up at him, and it made him want to reach out and caress her cheek.

He felt like grinning, but he only allowed himself a smile. He had been thinking of Jaella since he’d first seen her a few days before, and then the attack in the alley had thrown them together. Perhaps the attack had been a stroke of fortune after all. No one had come to lasting harm, and he had met Jaella due to it. He wondered where this would lead. “I’ll see you at the dance.”

He inclined his head to her, and turned away.

“Lieutenant, two things came for you yesterday afternoon.” Captain Felim nodded in brief welcome as Allen entered the supply office. He held up a large brown paper envelope and a smaller, white envelope and passed both to Allen as he passed by the captain’s desk on the way to his own. “You’re popular it seems.”

“Thank you, sir,” Allen said, as he took his seat and turned the envelopes over in his hands.

The larger envelope was sealed with a black wax, and into the wax was impressed a griffin: official Guard correspondence; the smaller was sealed with a yellow wax and a symbol Allen didn’t recognize: a rod and star.

It was rare that he received any sort of letter through the Kingdom’s postal service, and normal channels would have delivered it to his barracks, not his office. These were something special: he suspected they had been handled only by the Guard on their way to him, which guaranteed a higher level of security and less chance of interrupted delivery. He had a suspicion what the larger envelope contained, but he set it to the side to let his curiosity peak before he opened it; he was more curious about the second. If it had been official guard business, it would have held the Guard seal that was on the larger envelope. But he didn’t know whose sigil was on the wax, and it had come through Guard channels, so it was from someone who could preempt the Guard’s internal postal service for his own interests: a group that he suspected held only a limited few. It could be from the King, from a chancellor or minister, from any of several of the royal advisors, or from any officer in the Guard of sufficient rank to use the postal service for his own correspondence, which meant a few of the senior captains in influential positions or a general—no one else had the authority or royal favor to commandeer the Guard channels.

He broke the seal on the smaller envelope and pulled out the folded sheet of stiff paper inside. Unfolding it revealed an elegant, scholarly script that it took him a moment to decipher; it was far more elaborate than the typical hand used in the Kingdom.

Lieutenant Delais, His Majesty asked me to send this note to you, to inform you of the events surrounding the attack upon your friends that necessitated your rescue. His Majesty would also like to thank you for your efforts in defense of the kingdom and your fellow Guards; for now, such thanks must remain informal and enclosed only in this letter.

It is our belief that the attack upon your fellow Guards was the work of a political enemy of Senior Lieutenant Kilin Vreis, or rather his father, Baron Vreis. The Vreis family is embroiled in several major political scenarios, but chiefly that of the Kingdom’s trade along the Aela; indeed, this is the very reason Lieutenant Kilin was assigned as your roommate, as you are yourself familiar with the river trade in a most intimate way, and it is in the interests of His Majesty to promote this trade.

The identity of the attackers has been only half-confirmed, but several suspects of ill-repute have been apprehended by the City Watch and are confined in the royal dungeon. Lieutenants Kilin and Jaella have been unable to identify their attackers to date, and so it is likely the criminals will be released shortly: His Majesty must respect his own laws.

Of some note to you, as you will shortly be traveling to the northern border, is that the suspected attackers bore weapons of Leusi design; without the confirmation of their involvement in the attack however, this is not enough evidence to imprison them indefinitely. His Majesty asks you, by way of this letter, to investigate during your northern assignment as much as you are capable the connection between these weapons and the trade along the Aela. We fear that Karn is somehow embroiled in this work and perhaps supplies the northerners with their steel. As you know, His Majesty forbids the export of steel from the kingdom to the north or the south; only our allies in the west are an acceptable market for our blades.

Were it not for your mark, His Majesty would not ask a greater burden of you than your oaths to him as his Guard; but His Majesty’s need in this hour is such that he must grasp at any blade that comes to his hand, most especially those which he is certain will not turn in his hand. In your efforts in the north and throughout the Kingdom on behalf of His Majesty, we beg your goddess of her favor.

There are greater troubles in the kingdom than can be revealed in detail in so brief a letter: know that we fear the threat of civil war and plots among the nobility to overthrow the king. Be on your guard in the north, ware well the river trade and preserve it in its current state, beware a journey alone to the northwest of the Kingdom as the King’s dissidents are gathered there and will not look favorably upon his Guard, and hold fast to your friends in Aciel and in the Guard.

Know that you have His Majesty’s trust.

Honor to your Oaths,

Juslir

Allen read the letter a second time before he refolded it and set it back in its envelope; then slipped the envelope into an inner pocket of his uniform. The letter spoke directly to the worries expressed to him by Jaella’s father, and he wondered if Baron Juslir and Keirs Ielior were not both allies and advisors to the king.

The letter stressed the dangers besetting the kingdom, but it added little that he had not already known: the connection to the Leusi was the most interesting, if still somewhat intangible. The message reinforced his conversation with Keirs and warned of plots among the nobility; and it took for granted his loyalty to the king and his defense of the king’s interests—which was only right. The request for divine intervention was of more concern, as he did not know his goddess’ mind in the matter. He would continue to offer Her blessings as he had always done, but he did not know what else the Baron or the King expected.

He broke the seal on the larger envelope with a calmness that surprised him. He should have been excited to receive the news it contained, but after the letter from Juslir it seemed mundane. His excitement returned though when he slid the letter from its envelope; it was indeed what he had expected, but the sight of it filled him with an eager attention. It was short and to the point:

Junior Lieutenant Delais, as of Alyssa fourth of spring you are hereby ordered to report with all necessary gear to the staging point for the 9^th Legion in Aciel, located beside the village of Kopris approximately thirty-seven miles east of Rylar’s walls, along the King’s highway. Your commanding officer for the legion will be General Kostir, his second is Senior Captain Latris, and the commanding officer of your cohort is Senior Captain Della. You are assigned as scout patrol leader to the First Cavalry Cohort of the 9^th Legion, reporting directly to Senior Captain Della. With this letter, you may requisition all necessary supplies from the capital, including winter gear, three changes of uniform, primary and secondary arms and armament, two Guard horses, with necessary tack and armor, for your extended use, and necessary tack and supplies. On the morning of your departure, you and your scout detachment will escort a baggage train for the First Cavalry Cohort to the staging point in Kopris. You are responsible for the safety of these supplies. The gathering point for your departure is the smaller bailey in front of the west stables. Details on your scout detachment will arrive shortly by Guard post. You are hereby released from your current morning assignment in Supply in order to prepare for your detachment. As usual, you are expected to attend afternoon courses while in the capital, unless preparations for your departure do not permit it. You are granted temporary leave from Alyssa second to Kaisa third of spring.

By Order of His Majesty Lais, King of Aciel,

Captain of the Guard Faesin Hyrleis,

and General Kostir of the 9^th Legion

The orders were the usual mix of hurried information jammed into as little space as possible, with gaping holes that only time would fill. He was excited to see he would have his own scout detachment, and hopefully the information on his men would arrive as promised. Alyssa fourth meant the first day of the fourth week of spring, which left him just over two and a half weeks before he had to depart. Plenty of time to prepare, and there were almost two weeks of leave in it, though he had no plans for how to spend it. Kaisa was the sixth day of the week, leaving him one day in the capital between the end of his leave and the morning of Alyssa fourth.

The letter released him from his current duty, so there was no need to remain in the Supply office. He stood up, and before he could speak Captain Felim nodded to him.

“I already know you’re leaving. You’ve done fine work here. Good luck in your journey.”

It was a brief speech, as all of Felim’s words were brief, but Allen took it to heart. “Thank you, sir. It has been a pleasure working for you.”

Felim chuckled, probably at the word “pleasure,” and waved Allen out. “Head off to your future, Lieutenant. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Allen saluted the captain a final time, and left the office with the one envelope in his pocket and the other in his hand. It would be best to requisition his supplies as soon as possible, if he wanted to insure they would be waiting for him by Yoneth third, the day before his departure on Alyssa fourth.

He would acquire as much of the necessary equipment as possible now, and place the rest on order. It would take the tailors several days at least to make the three new uniforms for him. He had no real need of new uniforms or arms and armaments, but it was not wise to refuse the Guard’s generosity. It might be years before he had the opportunity to acquire another set at the Guard’s expense.

His first stop was the armory, where he placed orders for a standard set of heavy cavalry armor as well as a set of the lighter, more versatile scout armor worn by mounted scout patrols. Those two sets of armor, combined with the modified infantry set he kept in the barracks, would let him change his armor to suit almost any need. He would be able to don standard heavy infantry or heavy cavalry armor at need, and remove pieces for medium to light infantry and cavalry wear. The armor would take up most of a packhorse by itself, but it would be worth it for the versatility. He could store it in the barracks once he reached the 9^th’s permanent quarters. Each set of armor came with its standard arms and shields.

The tailor’s was next, where he placed an order for winter gear and three new uniforms, one of them a dress uniform.

The stables were his last stop. Travel supplies and fodder he could requisition at any time, and they could wait until just before his departure, but he wanted his pick of the Guard horses in the stables, especially if he would be a mounted scout.

There were two types of horses typically kept by the Guard, one for heavy cavalry and the other for light cavalry and scouting; the Guards tended to refer to them as chargers and hunters. The chargers were much stockier than the hunters and of a better weight for direct battle, able to easily bear the weight of an armored rider and their own armor, and to shoulder aside smaller horses and enemy combatants time after time. Hunters were a smaller, lighter breed, with a light, almost dancing step; their strength was in speed and agility rather than brute strength and their footfalls were quiet; they excelled in jumping hurdles and making sharp turns and were favored by the nobility for hunting. The hunters also seemed to Allen to have a finer sensibility for their surroundings and a keener intelligence and temper; they had quicksilver spirits where the chargers were direct and forceful.

He spent the rest of the morning searching the stables and pastures, and talking to the hostlers, before he settled on two hunters: one was a spirited bay gelding and the other was a charcoal grey mare with a white streak in her mane and tail and a keen perception in her eye; both were young, four and five respectively, and well-trained to respond to knee, rein, or voice. It would take some time for them to become familiar with him as a rider, and he hoped there would be time before he reached the north. He decided to hold off on naming them until he got to know them better; their nicknames in the stables would do for now, and were “Arrow” and “Dusk.”

The hostlers moved the two hunters to the officer’s stable for him, and he left them there with the assurance that they would be ready when he called for them.

The sun was high in the sky by the time he finished his preparations, and he felt the rumblings of an empty stomach, so he headed to the dining hall, where he planned to meet Kilin for lunch as usual.

He wondered if the other lieutenant had also received orders to the north. Kilin would not be in the same patrol, but they might be in the same cohort. Also, Kilin might have an idea for how to spend his leave. If not, he could spend the two weeks traveling the countryside around Aciel and getting to know his horses.

“Do you think your father will make too much of this evening?” Allen asked, as they passed a lamp-lighter raising his stick to the lanterns that marked the street.

“I’m sure he intends something lavish to impress you and any other guests, and to show exactly how valuable he considers my health. I am his only son and eldest child, or it might not be as notable. My sisters would do well with the inheritance, and if anything should happen to me it would pass to them, but father thinks it important that the title pass from father to son,” Kilin replied, glancing briefly toward the new lights that burned along the street.

“Have you had any word yet about the attack,” Allen asked. “It’s still a mystery to me.”

“Not so far. Father is apt to see it as a political attack against his interests—he thinks one of his opponents in the court arranged it as a warning to him.”

“Someone attacked you and all he thinks of is politics?”

“It’s not as bad as that,” Kilin assured him. “He truly is concerned for my health. It’s just that father cannot see anything without attaching some political motivation to it.”

“It’s going to be an interesting evening then. I wonder what he’ll make of me. I don’t know the first thing about politics.”

“I think you know more than you realize—just think of it as a melee; you’re good at those. You’ll do fine tonight—father’s promised it will be a small gathering: just the family and a few friends. Be careful what you say though and don’t promise him anything; he would take you at your word.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut as much as possible then.” The dances of politics were not something Allen wanted to embroil himself in.

A few minutes later, they reached the gate of the Vreis house: large, wrought iron portals folded back at the porter’s wave and two retainers dressed in the red and brown livery of the Baron Vreis stepped forward to escort them inwards.

Kilin tried to wave the guards off, despite their ill-concealed frowns and apologetic protests, but came up against higher orders.

“Sorry, sir, but your father insisted that we accompany you inwards.”

It would have been a better idea if they’d accompanied Kilin two nights before, Allen thought. But knowing his friend, Kilin wouldn’t have permitted them to follow him around all the time, trusting to his uniform as safety enough, so it was a moot point.

Kilin sighed, and nodded at the retainers. They fell into step a few paces behind the lieutenants and followed them inwards along the straight, white-paved path that led from the gate to the main entrance. The path broadened into a small courtyard just before the steps of the door, with enough room for visitors to dismount from a carriage and let the driver turn around again.

Another set of retainers was waiting by the door, and when the group approached they turned and spoke a few words to someone inside. The double doors swung open.

“Dramatic nonsense,” Kilin muttered.

The retainers halted at the doors, and the two lieutenants entered alone, pausing in the doorway as they took in the scene beyond.

The doors opened onto a straight, wide hall, with another door at the far end, bracketed by yet another pair of retainers. After their eyes adjusted to the brighter lantern light inside, they advanced again.

“Don’t you get tired of all the doors?” Allen asked. It was more than just the doors that he was referring to, and Kilin picked up on it.

“This is why I never visit unless father directly requests it. Every time I come here it reminds me that I really don’t want to be the next Baron Vreis if I have to put up with this all the time.”

“Couldn’t you order them to stop?”

“You’ve never seen the look of wounded indignation on a steward’s face, I take it. If there’s one thing that a noble is eternally constricted by, it’s the formality of his servants. It’s like a contest to them; they try to see who can best preserve the ‘noble tradition of the family.’ Sometimes I think it’s the servants who are the real masters here.”

The inner doors swung open to reveal a dining hall stretching to the right and left. A long table was set down the center of it, and dozens of servants moved about the room carrying platters of refreshments and ewers for the guests, who were mixing idly. It wasn’t a small room, and the guests filled every available corner. There were easily more than a hundred of them.

“Oh good gods…” Kilin muttered as they stopped in the doorway and took it in.

“So much for a small gathering.”

“Father must have invited everyone he’s talked to in the last two days, and half the court besides.”

“Are there any good points?” Allen asked.

“Well, it’ll be easier to hide….” The two of them fell silent as the crowd noticed them, and another pair of retainers from inside the doors stepped up to flank them.

“Senior Lieutenant Kilin Vreis of the Northern Guard,” one intoned, to be followed a moment later by the other:

“And Guest of Honor, Junior Lieutenant Allen Delais of the Northern Guard.”

The room fell silent and the guests turned expectantly towards the two. As they did, Baron Vreis appeared from the center of the gathering and made his way toward them.

“Here we go….” Kilin muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Kilin, my boy!” Baron Vreis shouted as he approached. “Let us drink to your health!”

Servants around the room seemed to have been waiting for the cue and pressed goblets into the hands of all the guests who lacked drinks.

The baron stopped in front of the lieutenants still several paces away and raised his goblet. “To Lieutenant Kilin Vreis, healthy and whole,” he shouted, “May he stay that way forever!”

The guests cheered politely and raised their goblets to the toast.

“And to our faithful friend in need, Lieutenant Allen Delais!” the baron shouted, and raised his goblet again.

There was another cheer from the guests. By Allen’s estimate, the two cheers had been so similar that the second seemed like an eerie echo around the room.

The baron turned back toward the guests, and raised his goblet again. “Now let us feast! In honor of the safety of my son and heir and in thanks for his deliverance from the dangers that beset the kingdom!”

A third cheer came from the guests, once again at exactly the same pitch, and servants began to direct the attendees toward their places at the table.

“If you would follow me, sirs,” an older servant with white hair said to them, as he appeared at Kilin’s elbow.

“Of course, Lothrik,” Kilin replied. “Lead the way.”

The man bowed slightly, and led them towards the head of the table, where he sat Kilin at the right of the head and Allen directly across from him, a position that mirrored the arrangement at Jaella’s house the night before.

The baron spared them another toast as he took his place at the head of the table without further comment and nodded to Lothrik to start the first course.

Servants filled the goblets of the guests at the table and platters began to arrive from the kitchen, bearing steaming dishes of marinated and steamed vegetables and cool olives from the south. As course followed course, the platters bore soups, fish, vegetables, roasted birds, grilled meats wrapped in pastry crusts, strong mustards and sauces, more vegetables and soups, and then platters of mixed cheeses followed by cakes and pastries, dark chocolates, and finally a strong and sweet cordial. Servants kept the goblets of the guests full throughout the evening, exchanging them with each course for different wines.

When the meal was reduced to abundant shreds, and the guests finally sated, more brandies and cordials were served along with dessert wines.

Early on in the meal Allen picked up the habit of passing on the majority of the courses from Kilin, who examined each as they came by him and then either accepted one or shook his head. The rest of the guests seemed to be doing the same, accepting a course here or there, but spending most of their time talking with their neighbors and drinking. The drinks were both hot and cold, many of them mulled with spices while others were naturally pleasing to the palate—not all of them were alcoholic, but the strong and sweet tastes concealed the potency of the constant streams poured from the ewers.

When the last course had been cleared and only scattered glasses and goblets sat upon the table, Kilin’s father stood up and offered another toast.

“To all our friends who have joined us here tonight in celebration, may Alyssa find you in peace and secure in your homes tonight, Corian bring you a fine year for the harvest, and Kaisa send you the luck to hold fast and prosper. Health to our king, health to our people, and health to all of you!”

“Health!” the guests cried, and raised their goblets and drank.

And with that, they stood from the table and began to mingle again and disperse. And Kilin nodded to Allen, indicating that it was time to slip out.

Before they could leave the table, the baron stopped them and shook Allen’s hand. “I had to make a display for the crowd, but now there’s finally a minute to talk and thank you. It was a lucky thing that you were there; the attackers might have returned to finish what they started, or some opportunist might have seen his chance to strike back at me and my family for perceived wrongs.”

The baron waved Lothrik over, who approached bearing a small case. The baron took it and opened it, offering it to Allen.
”I would like you to accept this gift, as a token of my thanks.”

The inside of the case was lined with black velvet and upon it lay a chain of gold links from which hung a dark, sparkling ruby.

“It is only a small thing, but perhaps you will find some use for it,” the baron suggested.

“I thank you, Baron Vreis, but truly it is not necessary,” Allen replied, holding up a hand in protest. He had no interest in accepting gifts from Kilin’s father, and this seemed far too much. “Kilin is my very great friend, and I hold his safety as reward enough.”

The baron squinted at him, and frowned slightly, before he offered the case again. “Your friendship is a great thing to my son, and to me, and it has kept him safe to return to me. Please take this small token of my gratitude. I would be ashamed if you did not.”

Allen sighed internally and took the case from the baron, letting it fall closed again. It was heavy in his hands with the weight of the gold and jewel.

The baron nodded and smiled widely. “May it be of great use to you, as you have been to me.”

Kilin, who had been silent throughout the exchange, moved again to Allen’s side as his father turned back to the mingled crowd and disappeared. He glanced down at the case in Allen’s hands, but said nothing as he nodded toward the door and the two of them slipped out.

Once they were outside the final gate to the street, he broke his silence.

“That bastard!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

Allen, slightly surprised, looked at his friend. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you see,” Kilin said, “he thinks he’s bought you off now. What he said, ‘of some small use to you,’ and the way he looked. It was a business exchange to him!”

“You mean this gift is supposed to buy me off somehow,” Allen said.

“Exactly. As if you were some hireling of his who had performed above expectations. You help me, and he pays you for it. I bet he’ll never mention this again, and he’ll probably try to forget your name as quickly as possible. This whole thing must have been an embarrassment to him.”

“I could send this back,” Allen suggested. He guessed it was worth more than he would make in the Guard in several years, but money wasn’t a concern of his. The Guard paid for most of his needs, and his other requirements were minimal.

“No, keep it,” Kilin said. “He would just send it back again, or something even more obvious, like a bank draft. And the cost of that thing will hang in his account books at least to remind him of what he thinks I’m worth.”

Kilin fumed the rest of the way back to the barracks, where Allen stored the case in the bottom of his wardrobe.

“Tomorrow, if you’re willing, we can take that to a gem factor I know and sell it, and I’ll help you arrange an account with one of the better banks in the city. It’s probably safe to leave it here, but it would still tempt anyone who found it.”

“All right,” Allen agreed. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything with it, and that’s a better idea than leaving it beneath a stack of my underclothes.” It was a fine piece, Allen thought, but he would look ridiculous wearing it; it would be better off in some noble’s treasury.

Jaella’s father shook Allen’s hand slowly as his eyes studied the lieutenant. “You have my thanks and more, but words mean little compared to my daughter’s safety.”

The two men stood in the courtyard before the Ielior townhouse. It pressed near against the outer wall of Aciel’s center ring that was dominated by the palace, set off from the street and wall by a high fence and elaborate gardens. A cobblestone pathway lined with small evergreens led from the road to the gate, which blended into a tall hedge that hid the house from view.

“Dinner is waiting in the dining hall, but I wanted to meet you first and have a few words,” Kiers Ielior said as he released Allen’s hand. Jaella’s father was a tall, broad man, well-muscled. Kilin had told him what he knew of the Ielior family when they’d caught up that afternoon, after Jaella had taken her leave with a final insistence that he come to the dinner that evening.

Until his nominal retirement some years before, Kiers Ielior had been one of the King’s lesser known but most well-traveled legates. For the better part of two decades until he decided to settle down in the capital, he had carried the King’s orders and overseen the royal will in every part of the kingdom, helped to solidify the ever-shifting strife of the noble alliances behind the king’s will, and had borne treaties and trade agreements between Rylar and its neighbors, escorted by upwards of a legion of the King’s Guards. Not himself a military man, he nonetheless had the tall, straight bearing of a Guard and the fluid movement of a swordsman. He gave off an air of solidity and gravity.

“I couldn’t have done anything less, sir,” Allen replied.

“Perhaps not,” Kiers said, “but you did do it, and for that I am grateful. But enough standing around outside. Let us go in to dinner.”

Kiers led the way into the townhouse, up the stairs and past the carved statuary that marked the entrance. When they arrived there, the dining hall was brightly lit, and the long table was set only at one end with service for four. Jaella and her mother, Asella Ielior, would fill the other two spots when they arrived. A butler stood near the door to the dining hall, surveying the setting and waiting for the family and guest.

“The ladies will be down shortly, sir,” the butler said. Then he added to Allen with a nod, before he turned away again, “My deep thanks as well, lieutenant, for your service to the young lady. She is the light of this place.”

Allen inclined his head in response.

The two of them were seated, only to rise a few moments later as the women joined them. Asella and Jaella were clothed in evening dresses popular in Aciel that season, backless and hugging the hips, with flaring skirts to dance. As they entered, Jaella drew Allen’s eyes until the rest of the room faded away. The young lieutenant was striking. Her hair flowed dark and black down her back, and the dress carried the subtle grace of her movements into an alluring glide that was absent in her uniform.

Asella had a mature and lightly silvered beauty, and only the barest hint of lines at the corners of her eyes as she smiled at him, kissed him on both cheeks in welcome, and moved around the table to stand beside her husband.

Jaella smiled at him as well as she approached with her mother and repeated the kissing performance before she made her way around the table to stand across from him.

The butler pulled the chairs back for Asella and then Jaella and sat them, and then Kiers and Allen took their seats as well. Kiers sat at the head of the table with Allen on his left, and on his right were his wife and daughter.

The meal began to arrive in courses, and wine and mead were poured in moderation. Throughout the evening, as the courses were carried into the room and each was discussed and tasted, the four carried on a sedate and pleasant conversation. Allen was thanked again, and Asella held his hand between hers as she looked into his eyes and expressed her gratitude, but soon enough, to his relief, the topic turned from the inexplicable attack in the alley to more general topics, of which food and wine and travel made up a great part. Politics were mentioned and discussed, and toasts offered to the king’s health, to fair travels, to good company, and to fast friends at need.

All told, as the evening passed, Allen began to thoroughly enjoy himself. It had seemed formal and flat at first, but the conversation and animation of the family had become apparent even in the highly fashionable setting, and when the talk had first turned to subjects other than himself, he willingly added his opinion.

In time the evening began to wind down, and the drowsy haze of a good meal and good company settled over them, and the ladies retired, leaving Kiers and Allen to continue the discussion of trade with the north that had been the topic of the evening for the past few rounds.

“It’s imperative,” Kiers was saying, “that the northern trade come through Rylar. If the trade is diverted into the east and makes its way to Karn instead, it bodes ill for the estates along the River Aela, the main conduit for those goods. Fully half of the king’s most trusted nobles hold estates along the river. And while the land there is rich for farming, the nobles to the north and west have their mines to support them. If the finances of the estates there are disrupted, the balance of power in the kingdom will shift to the king’s dissenters—the greater portion of which are in the north and west, outside of the heart of the kingdom in the newer provinces. The profits of their gold and iron mines are only currently balanced by the trade in jewels, furs, and ambers that come down the Aela.

“Any decline in the taxes means an inevitable decline in the military might of the kingdom. The legions will be decreased, and the northerners and southerners both may look towards Rylar for expansion. Many of the king’s personal estates also reside in that region. The people there would survive, even prosper still, through farming, but the northern trade employs perhaps a quarter of the populace in one fashion or another. Goods move along the river from the south, which the king taxes, and down from the north, which the king also taxes. In effect, disruption of the Aela’s trade would spell disaster for the king’s reputation and the kingdom’s defense. There would be riots in every town along the river, and dissatisfaction with the king’s policies could lead to a civil war between the newer provinces that still resent their servitude and the old circle. It has only been a little over a century since the new provinces were annexed to the kingdom, and noble memories are long. If the king’s hand is weakened in the center of the kingdom, all that is needed is for the new provinces to withhold their taxes, and in time the treasury will run out and the legions will fail. Before it comes to that, the king would be forced to lay siege to the provinces, which would open us to northern and southern aggression.”

“I understand,” Allen said. “I’ll keep an eye on the king’s interests in the Aela’s trade from now on, and support it where I am able.”

The two of them had been drinking for a while, and were feeling very mellow, by the time Allen took his leave.

It had been a good evening, and though he had not had a chance to talk to Jaella as casually as he liked, he was sure to see her around the palace. He was also glad to have met her parents, who seemed to be very insightful in their respective ways. Her mother had been very pleasant and conversational over the food and its origins, and she had added a number of pertinent stories about travels in those very lands that had given a unique breadth and perspective to the dinner.

When he returned to the barracks, Kilin was waiting up, and he was obliged to recount the entire evening, or at any rate as much of it as he could recall.

“He talked about trade on the Aela and the king’s finances?” Kilin asked, surprised. “I’d always heard Kiers Ielior was close-lipped about politics, especially ones that concerned the king.”

Allen shrugged. “We talked about food and travel as well, politics just seemed to naturally follow.”

“Still, it’s strange. He must have liked you, or thought you could use the information somehow.”

“What am I going to do with it? I’m just a junior lieutenant. If someone is going to protect the river trade, it would have to be someone with more pull than me.”

“You forget you stand out, sometimes, I think,” Kilin said. “That mark makes people trust you, and see you as influential.”

“Hmm,” Allen replied, but he didn’t deny the truth of it. Though he didn’t spend much time thinking about it, he got far more attention than was the usual due of a junior lieutenant.

“Maybe you’ll have a chance to influence things one day, and Kiers wanted to make sure you did it in a favorable way. I would gamble my last silver that he didn’t do anything tonight without some sharp maneuvering behind it.

“And that you like his daughter is only going to make it easier for him to influence you, you know,” Kilin added with a grin.

“What?” Allen dropped his belt with a start. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, it’s obvious. Whenever she’s in the room, you spend the entire time staring at her.”

“I do?” Allen asked, though he thought it was probably true. It was difficult to take his eyes off her.

“Well, maybe it’s not that bad…but it’s noticeable. You should ask her to a dance; Solen knows there’s enough of the things around the palace, and you’re not always on duty.”

“Aren’t the balls reserved to the nobles or by invitation only? Mark or not, I’m not a noble.”

“Usually, but in your case it doesn’t matter. So many of the Guard officers come from the nobility that the king’s ancestors began the tradition of a standing invitation to all Guard officers to join the dances and other palace functions, when free from duty. It prevents having to keep track of and send an invitation to every transient officer in the capital, and so avoids accidentally forgetting anyone. Your uniform is all the invitation you need.”

“I’ll ask her then, one of these days.”

“Ask her for Kaisa’s day, this week, it’s a lucky day for love and there’s always a dance then.”

Allen glanced over at his friend, as he collected the belt and set it off to the side. “You’re being helpful.”

“You need to get out more. This is a good opportunity. Meet some people, get them to see your mark, collect some patrons. Your career won’t go anywhere otherwise.

“And,” Kilin added, “get the girl too.”

“Are you planning on being there?”

“Alas, no, I have other plans. Those dances are horribly boring, after the hundred and tenth time you’ve been forced to go.”

Allen snorted. “Some help you are then, abandoning me to the wolves. How am I supposed to know who’s who?”

“No worries,” Kilin grinned. “Jaella has fine teeth of her own to keep them off of you, and she knows everyone.”

“You’ve planned it all out then, have you?”

“You need a push once in a while to get you away from all the armor and tactics. I am simply providing the opportunity.”

“Fine,” Allen said. “I’ll ask her the next time I see her. Glad to see you’re back to your usual plotting self.”

“I do but try my humble best….” Kilin replied. And so Allen threw the belt at him.

Beneath the joking façade, Allen knew that Kilin’s advice was deadly serious. If he wanted an extended career in the Guard, he needed noble support. Without a family of his own to provide those connections, he had to rely upon his own contacts. Networks of such aristocratic connections were woven throughout the Guard, and the better his own network was the more easily he would be accepted by the other officers, offered promotion, and generally find his life and orders more palatable. The Guard, like most of the kingdom it seemed, functioned in a great part based solely on whom you knew.

“Don’t forget either,” Kilin added, throwing the belt back, “dinner tomorrow night at my parents’ place.”

Allen nodded as he caught the belt and stowed it away. “I won’t forget.” He wondered for a moment if Kilin had been responsible in some way for setting up the dinner, and perhaps the dinner at Jaella’s as well. Even if it were so, despite the high-handed meddling in his career prospects, Kilin was acting in Allen’s best interests.

His dreams as he slept that night were full of the goddess beneath her crescent moon, an image which kept changing into Jaella, then into the King, and finally dissolving into a wordless freedom as he flew threw the air on the wings of a hawk. Through it all an echo of “Nitharn…Nitharn…” came like the hoot of an owl, and he could smell the pale blossoms of the goddess’ glade.

Then he dismissed the idea of unwanted responsibility. If the goddess asked him for something, he would worry about it then. The priestess of Kaisa had seemed pleased with her position, and he had the general idea that those with marks were not discontent with their lot.

He wasn’t sure if they were even that special. Really, what did a mark mean? Did it grant its bearer some form of divine favor or power? Was he supposed to work miracles as superstition around the marks suggested?

He would find out eventually. If the goddess had seen fit to grant him a mark, then no doubt she would make the rest of her will evident to him eventually. Perhaps she was waiting for something.

He wondered if she were waiting for him to change beneath the influence of the mark, as the priests had said he would. How long did something like that take, and what would be the end result?

The marked were perfectly human, as far as he knew. So it wasn’t a strange physical change. Perhaps it was spiritual or mental. Perhaps it took time for the divine influence to work its way through the body and alter whatever it was interested in altering. Had three-and-a-half years been enough time for the mark to work?

He clenched his hand into a fist and then relaxed it again, watching the movement of bone and muscle in his arm. Three and a half years had certainly put some muscle onto his once skinny frame. Work on the Dhara and the Guard’s training had been good for that. He was broad-shouldered but still lean, and as tall as most of the people in the north. His hair was dark and short but slightly tousled on a usual day. Keeping it a bit long helped provide extra padding for a helm.

Champion…Goddess…. What did those words mean to him? More importantly…what did they mean to Her?

Why had she given him the mark, and what did she expect of him?

He wasn’t averse to serving her. If nothing else, three-and-a-half years had made him very comfortable with the mark beside his eye, if not always so much with the reactions of people to it or the responsibilities it might entail. A fine distinction, perhaps, he mused. Perhaps he hadn’t quite thought it through yet. But, in a way, to see the mark on his face every time he looked in a reflection was reassuring. It was true that it reminded him he was not home, and raised a strong feeling of nostalgia, but it was also a sign that he belonged where he was…that he was the focus of something greater than himself.

The mark was like his Guard uniform…an outward representation of his place in society. And living in a world that was still sometimes new to him, he liked to have that reassurance.

Besides, he thought as he paused beside a jeweler’s window and examined his reflection in the glass…it was a pretty mark. A green ivy vine with smaller tendrils that curled around the outer corner of his left eye, the top of it curving around his eyebrow and the bottom curling just under his eye. Small green and gold leaves spread themselves from the vine and tendrils.

As he was looking into the mirror, a young woman with a small girl walking beside her caught sight of him and paused. She was dressed in a simple blue skirt and white blouse, and a patterned shawl was wrapped around her shoulders. She took in his uniform and his mark, and gave him a tentative smile as she approached.

“Good morning, sir.” She dipped in a short but graceful curtsy. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw your mark.”

“How can I help you?” Allen asked, after he returned her curtsy with a polite bow. He brushed away his slight irritation at the interruption. She was probably going to ask for a blessing. Most people did. It was his duty as a Guard to help the people of Aciel whenever possible, and perhaps it was his responsibility as the marked champion of a forgotten goddess to spread her blessings as far as possible. Either way, it didn’t bother him to be interrupted. Blessings didn’t take long and he rather liked people, at least as long as there wasn’t a horde of them asking him for something.

“I was hoping you would bless something for my daughter. She’s afraid of ghosts, and I think a blessing will help her to get over it.”

She knelt down beside her daughter, who looked to be four or five, and unclasped a thin necklace. Then she stood up and held it out to him.

It was a simple silver chain with a crescent moon hanging from it. Initials were engraved onto the back of the moon.

It seemed to glitter and flash in his vision, and when he took it from her he felt the world waver.

A glade at night surrounded him, and he heard the sound of crickets and the creak of branches in the wind. A crescent moon hanging above illuminated pathways that circled in the center of the glade, their borders flowering hedges that bloomed with pale white and gold. A sweet scent floated on the air.

And across the glade from him, bathed in the light of the pale moon, stood a woman with dark hair that cascaded past her waist, clothed in a simple, classical dress. Ribbons of white flowers were woven through her hair.

He knew his eyes should not have been sharp enough, but he could see her in every detail. She smiled at him.

And then she was gone.

And he felt the necklace in his hand grow warm with the blessing of the goddess.

He wavered slightly on his feet and the world seemed vague and ethereal around him, and he struggled to maintain his composure as he smiled at the woman and passed the necklace back to her.

“The blessing of the goddess go with you and your daughter,” he managed to get out.

A moment later, the mother and daughter were gone and he was alone again on the street. By a stroke of fortune it seemed no other passersby had been aware of the blessing, or at least were not inclined to ask for one themselves. The mother and daughter had not seemed to notice his reaction.

The world slowly resumed its solidity.

When he had recovered from the vision, he could still feel the lingering sensation of the woman smiling.

Woman. Goddess. He knew her now, and she was beyond a doubt the one who had marked him.

Why had she waited so long to show herself to him? And was she not still sleeping?

It was a confirmation of what the Council had told him, and it did bring him some reassurance that the story was accurate.

He did not think she would have shown herself to him otherwise. It was as if she were offering her approval to the knowledge he had gained.

And perhaps it meant she was ready to take a more active role in his life? Or an indicator that he should take a more active role in worshipping her?

He felt a slight sense of rebellion at being at the beck of a goddess that he hadn’t chosen, but in a moment it faded. She had never asked him for anything. It didn’t seem as if she were asking him for anything more now.

She was simply confirming her existence and giving him an idea of herself to hold in his mind.

Time would tell what it all meant, or what he was supposed to do for her.

He felt in his heart a new and vague longing join the familiar nostalgia for his home. He wanted to visit that glade where he had seen the goddess, to see her for real in the night.

It would be the culmination for his sense of wonder in the world. To be in the presence of a true goddess.

What would she be like, he wondered. What would she say to him? What truths would she reveal or myths dispel?

He wondered who she was, but he stopped himself with the thought only half-formed. That was what she had shown him. Not with words, but with a sense of herself that was more solid than words and beyond them.

It would be better to ask not “who” she was, but to wonder what she was, and to question her purpose, her history, and her intent.

He was glad to have had this glimpse of her, and to have the assurance of her presence. He thought he could feel the touch now of the spirit behind the mark.

And he knew, at a level that he had not before consciously examined, the dissolution of a tension. He had not ever let himself consider the matter, out of a sense of self-determinism, but he was aware now that he had feared learning the origin of the mark. It had brought him into the world and taken him away from his family. What worse things could it have done?

The reassurance of the goddess had banished that worry. Whatever she was, and whatever her purpose, he no longer worried that it would harm him.

There was, he figured, a distinct possibility that it would kill him. But that was a different matter, physical rather than spiritual. The difference between unwilling torture and a death in heroic defense of a nation.

He could live with the second, if it were necessary. After all, he had his oaths to the King and Guard and they were much the same. Heroism was part and parcel of his place in this world. That the goddess might ask that of him did not worry him, just as that the King might ask it of him did not worry him.

Perhaps it was a mindset familiar only to another Guard, but he was content with that. The worry over unwilling servitude had come to an end with the goddess’ appearance to him. Whatever she was going to ask him, he knew the answer would be of his own free will.

He knew though, that eventually she was going to ask him. He didn’t know yet what the question would be, but he could feel it dangling there somewhere in the future. Indistinct still. Vague. Amorphous. Unrealized.

It was still only potential.

But eventually it would come to him, and she would ask him, and he would have to answer.

For now though, there was no need to dwell on it. It was a matter for deliberation on long nights spent alone beneath the moon, for time spent on patrol in the distant north, not for the sun-warmed streets of the late morning, when passersby thronged around him and the rising beat of Rylar’s activity rose into the heavens and caused the city to echo with its vibrancy.

And he wondered with more immediate concern how Kilin and Jaella were faring in the infirmary, and if they had awoken yet.

There was no need to report to the Secretary’s office on his return to the palace. The Council had sent its own message to the king, and his report would be unnecessary. If the Secretary or the king thought it would be useful to hear his thoughts on the meeting, they would simply order him to report at a specific time or send a messenger for him.

He suspected he would be summoned eventually. Marks were rare, and curiosity if nothing else would probably win out. The king might also have a plan for him at some point, if he thought Allen’s mark would be useful. Allen didn’t know how reliable the precognition seemed to be. It had only happened twice, and years apart. But the possibility of it might be enough for the king to take interest. Especially if the attack on Kilin and Jaella had been part of something larger, as the king’s questions had suggested it might be the night before.

He had his usual afternoon training to attend, but there was enough time when he returned to the palace to stop by the infirmary and check on Kilin and Jaella and still get lunch.

He heard voices while he was still in the hallway outside the infirmary door, and when he walked in he found Kilin and Jaella sitting up in bed and carrying on an animated conversation about the merits of mead versus ale. There was no sign of any injury, and they were dressed and sitting cross-legged atop the beds.

He broke out laughing.

Kilin and Jaella turned to see him enter, and Kilin gave his infectious grin.

“Our hero!”

Jaella was slightly more formal, but still smiling as she stood up and crossed the room to him. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Thank you for finding us and for the help.” She paused in front of him, and gave him a hug.

“You have to come to dinner with my parents tonight. They would like to thank you themselves.”

“Night after that at my parents,” Kilin said. And then more quietly added, “Father was here earlier…and regretted that he missed you.” His voice lacked his usual humor when he mentioned his father, but that was usual for him. His father’s expectations for him were one thing that Kilin failed to find amusing.

Allen accepted both invitations with grace, but in truth he was not interested in the dinner with either family. It would give him a chance to see Jaella, and he found that he liked that idea. But he was uncomfortable accepting thanks from people he did not know.

He didn’t know about Jaella’s relationship with her family and how the attack and rescue might affect it, but it would not go over well with Kilin’s father. And Allen’s presence at dinner was only going to aggravate the situation. Kilin’s father would be constantly aware that his son had been rescued, and instead of being grateful he would be angry about it. He would take it as a reminder that his son was not good enough.

He would be polite, of course. He was Baron Vreis, and known for his cool head in hard times, as well as for his public speaking. But what marked Baron Vreis in public was not what marked Baron Vreis in private, as Kilin had explained to Allen before.

Allen had only met the Baron on two occasions and for the sake of his friend he was not looking forward to the third.